Cross-posted from Tumblr; canon-compliant up to "Flirting With Disaster", then diverges into a two-year timeskip.
"Sugar? Lemon?"
"I'm fine, thank you."
Vlad hummed, setting the dessert plates down next to the teacups on the coffee table. Harriet sat opposite him, her pad and pencil poised over crossed knee as she watched him take his seat.
The interview had technically started half an hour ago, when Vlad had greeted her into his home and given her a proper tour, acquainting her with the history of the property, detailing how it came into his possession, and ignoring the taut smile she kept up through the tangent on the illustrious collection of Packers memorabilia. But, as he knew, a good story always needed a well-rounded profile to lead, and he was more than happy to provide.
"Ready?" she prompted.
"Goodness, dear," he replied, adjusting his tie. "You don't give a fellow a moment to breathe, do you?"
She smiled. "Well, I think we both know this has been a long time coming. I mean, it's not that exclusive you promised me on the Wisconsin Ghost, but it'll have to do."
He huffed, crossing his legs and folding his hands over his knee, responding to her comment with little more than a smile of his own. She took it as their sign to start.
Harriet pressed a button on the recorder and sat back up as the tape wheels began to rotate. "So, Mr. Masters. The merger of Vladco. and Axion Laboratories. What led up to this point?"
Vlad straightened. Just as rehearsed.
"Well, a number of factors, really. We live in a world that cannot afford to compromise on security. In the last century we've gone from protection of the state and national interest, to the safeguarding of our online lives as we moved into the digital age, and now, as we can no longer deny the very real presence of the paranormal, it is clear we must continue to adapt."
"Was there an inciting event in particular that prompted this?" Harriet followed up, scratching something into her pad. Vlad paused. Although the steady rise in ghost sightings in the area over the past few years had only just begun to hold the nation's attention, he was fully aware of what she intended.
"I've had my personal share of encounters, to be sure. And if this is to be ground zero for supernatural security in this country, then, well, I don't think there's a better place to start."
"I see," she commented, holding his gaze as she continued to scribble, which he admitted to himself was mildly impressive. "What was it that drew you to Axion in particular?"
"I noted some… promising developments. Granted, there were a few minor setbacks that unfortunately marred the company name for a short while, but if there's anything I pride myself on sniffing out, it's potential."
He leaned over to drop a sugar cube into his tea.
"I connected with their research and development team shortly thereafter," he said, focusing on stirring until the piece dissolved completely. "Ultimately, it became obvious that with some understandable hesitancy on the government's part to continue supporting their projects, they would need a new source of revenue to see their visions realized. I was more than happy to provide."
"So you bought them out," Harriet interjected. "Almost complete and total vertical integration."
He nodded.
"It simplified a lot of things, yes."
"Some would - and have - argued that it's a monopolizing tactic," Harriet replied coolly. Vlad shrugged.
"In matters of security, there is very little time to waste."
"Still," she countered, "it seems a bit early to already be pushing competitors out of the field."
He turned his hands up in indifference.
"Some fields benefit more from unity of purpose than others," he answered nonchalantly.
"Your colleagues may feel differently."
"Do you care to name an example?"
"Well," Harriet replied, obviously choosing her words carefully. "FentonWorks, for one."
Vlad gripped the arm of his chair.
"I'm by no means a singular authority on the subject, admittedly," he said, his tone markedly flat. "But ultimately I cannot oversee everything."
"This hasn't come up at all?"
"How do you mean?"
"I mean, are you involved in the operations of FentonWorks in any way?"
He paused.
"We… touch base every so often. But Jack Fenton and I have different philosophies. Should we find ourselves in need of consulting with the other's… expertise, we know where to look."
He noted a strange look on Harriet's face just then as she nodded slowly. The furtive glance she gave the floor before returning her attention to her notes did nothing to assuage his curiosity.
"Is something the matter?"
"Nope," she replied curtly, a bit clumsily avoiding direct eye contact. He dipped his head for a clearer look at her.
"Harriet?"
He saw her purse her lips and glance around before she leaned forward and pressed pause on the tape. She sighed.
"Sorry. I just…" she sat back, her crossed leg bobbing as she attempted to articulate her thoughts. "The idea that he's still on the loose out there is… concerning, to say the least."
Vlad raised an eyebrow. "'On the loose?'"
Harriet rolled her eyes. "If his idea of 'research' is anything like what happened at the reunion, then I think there may be a bigger underlying issue of 'security' when it comes to these things."
She noted his expression.
"Sorry," she said quickly, waving a hand. "I know you're friends. I shouldn't have said that."
"No, no," Vlad responded reflexively, catching himself. He cleared his throat, leaning forward to pick up his tea. "I mean, you're entitled to your opinion. …Can I ask why?"
She tapped her pencil against the arm of her chair.
"Well, being thrown into a table didn't exactly endear him to me."
…Oh.
Vlad sipped his tea.
"Right," he replied. "Sorry about that."
"Yeah, so am I," she chuckled darkly. "Nothing like that hospital bill to really punctuate the humiliation conga."
Vlad lowered his cup.
"Harriet, I'm so sorry," he said. "I wish you had told me. I would have helped out with that."
"No, it's fine. Really," she assured him. "The worst thing to get bruised was my ego, honest. …And several lower vertebrae, but that's neither here nor there…"
She ignored his bewildered expression as she pressed play on the tape. Immediately she returned to reporter mode.
"So what are the implications of this acquisition in the short term?" she asked. He fumbled, setting the cup back down before he could answer.
"Uh… well, right now there aren't really any… finished products - these things need to be tested rigorously, as I'm sure you know - that we have lined up for release in the immediate future, but with circumstances being what they are, my hope is that we can start to see some trials in the next few months or so."
"I see," Harriet said pointedly. "And by circumstances, do you mean to say that recent events have had any impact on your timeline?"
The 'recent events' in question being, naturally, the rash of ghost-related incidents that appeared to plague Amity Park and the greater areas only two weeks before Vlad had agreed to the interview, as luck would have it. No doubt the absence of Phantom's presence (courtesy of Daniel's out-of-town excursion to Huntsville for his months long stint as a counselor in a Space Camp program, or something or other) had seen a rise in boldness on the part of the more spectral entities that called the area their hunting ground. Even though Vlad wasn't sure he could count on residents to remember how to tie their shoes most days, he was also certain that many had at least begun to put two and two together.
"I can neither confirm nor deny, but of course we want to work as quickly as we can to ensure the safety of everyone affected," came his carefully curated reply.
"In that case," Harriet responded, "are there any plans in place to deal with the issue as it is?"
Vlad sighed.
"Without the local rat-catcher, it's hard to say. Most of what we know is still largely made up as we go along."
"By rat-catcher, I assume you mean Phantom?"
Vlad shifted. "Yes."
"And to be clear, the Phantom that defeated the Wisconsin Ghost at the reunion?"
He smiled, jaw clenched. "The very one."
"Do you believe without the former, the latter could possibly make his return?"
"That's wild conjecture. We have no way of knowing."
"Well, it's not entirely unfounded. He has been seen sporadically since…"
"Harriet," Vlad interrupted, sensing her attempt to steer the conversation. "I believe we're getting caught up in the weeds here."
"It's relevant."
"I never said it wasn't," Vlad countered, leaning back, intertwining his fingers over his lap. "I simply believe we'll be here all day if we start baselessly speculating."
Harriet paused. They studied each other for a moment before she spoke again.
"Did you have anything else you wanted to share about upcoming products?"
"Not much I can disclose at the moment."
"Then… care to elaborate on other developments?"
Vlad stared.
"Perhaps we can pick this up at some other time."
He kept his head down as the guard hovered near his cell.
It was the twenty-second… twenty-third? who knew… day he found himself contemplating the floor. Besides, he knew he could have had it worse; had Walker not transferred him his second week for good behavior, he could have been crammed in with two or three other saps like the ones he could still hear howling from the ground floor.
He tugged at the cuff of his wrist. His number was stitched along the hem. I-4304.
All he had to do was keep his head down.
It was why he didn't initially notice the guard turn; only when 4304 heard the deafening crash that shook the walls did he look to the window and see the sentry react to something out of his sight. Alarmed shouts could be heard from down the hall as the guard dashed to stop the unseen intruder.
4304 jumped up to the door, straining to view sideways from the pitifully small portal, seeing nothing but hearing fast approaching yelling. Without warning he watched the guard fly backwards from the direction he had gone before, landing with a violent thud on the ground outside the cell, trapped in what seemed to be a net of some kind. He thought he heard the faint hiss of sizzling electricity come from past the door. The guard didn't move.
4304 almost didn't see the figure step in from the opposite side until the shadow crossed his cell door. He stumbled back, falling to the ground and cowering as another explosion sounded from somewhere around the adjoining block.
The door shook, and he lifted his head long enough to see light spill in from underneath. Within seconds he heard the low hum steadily rise in pitch. He jumped into the corner without thinking, narrowly dodging the metal panel as the door was blasted off of its hinges and collided with the wall where he had just been moments prior.
4304 shuddered, looking up to see who had made the forced entry.
The green flame was the first thing he saw as the stranger approached, hulking over him. The massive gatling he carried with him effortlessly almost dwarfed the prisoner in comparison, and still had smoke floating from the barrel as the blue light of the main chamber faltered.
When the smoke and dust dissipated he could see the face of his - captor? savior? - clearly, and he was suddenly rooted as he recognized the hunter.
"Wh- what… what do you want from me?" 4304 whimpered, huddling further into the crevice behind the suspended cot. Skulker reached over his shoulder, digging something out from the sack that was secured across his chest. He flung it at the inmate.
"You want your freedom?" Skulker growled. "Take it. Now."
He gripped the barrel of the gatling gun again, wasting no time waiting for an answer as he turned to walk out of the cell. The machine whirred back to life, firing indiscriminately, roaring against the backdrop of chaos that unfolded beyond the cell door.
4304 studied the object on the floor. Some type of… gun.
He plucked it off of the floor, rotating it in his hand. No distinguishing markings whatsoever. If anything, it looked remarkably… mortal. Save for the blue ring glowing at the opening of the barrel.
Another explosion sounded dangerously close down the hallway. Startled, he rose from the ground with the weapon in his hand, cautiously stepping near the hole in the wall and peeking past the frame.
Mayhem engulfed the floor as other inmates ran amok; he could see two guards lying on the ground. Nearly around the bend he watched as another sentinel attempted to gain the upper hand, pointing his baton at a loose prisoner, shocking him with the electric end of it before swinging it down on his back. In his fury as he beat the inmate relentlessly, the guard was unaware of the female prisoner that pointed a firearm at his back, similar to the one Skulker had dropped before.
The woman fired, sending the guard crashing to the floor.
4304 whipped around to look in the other direction, spotting Skulker right as he pulled the pin of a hand grenade with his teeth, sending it flying towards another cluster of struggling guards.
The prisoner stepped out of his cell, looking frantically for a path through the destruction. Almost instantly, he heard shots being fired near his head. He turned to see the guard hurtling towards him with the firing end of the baton facing him directly.
Without thinking 4304 raised his weapon, aiming and pulling the trigger. A loud, shrill hum sounded as the gun discharged, lodging something in the guard's chest. He too hit the ground, twitching violently before coming to an eerie stillness.
The prisoner didn't have time to consider what had happened before he heard the whine of the gatling gun one more time; he pivoted, watching as Skulker aimed directly for the wall.
There was a blinding flash, followed by a deafening boom; 4304 covered his eyes, waiting until the light disappeared to view the gap blown clear through the barrier; the sickly green currents of the Ghost Zone were visible from outside.
Instantly a stampede of prisoners began barreling through to the exit. He wasted no time in joining them. As he approached the gate to freedom he noticed Skulker appear to turn back into the prison. He glanced between the hunter and the sky outside, briefly wondering if he had been led into some sort of trap.
Yet he couldn't deny the droves upon droves of inmates that had begun flying out of the blasted wall. Without thinking, he quickly followed suit.
Skulker stood by the wreckage of the wall, observing the chaos without expression. An alarm beeped from his wrist. He lifted it to his chin, pressing a button.
"How is it coming along?" came the voice from the speaker.
"You tell me," Skulker responded, extending his arm out to the open space inside the prison, directly into the cloud of anguished screams and wild laughter as more inmates entered the stream outside. He brought his wrist in again.
"Beautiful," he could hear Vlad comment through the communicator. "I respect nothing if not your craftsmanship."
"I'm honored," Skulker remarked dryly.
"Don't stay too long," Vlad answered. "Unless you plan on running into your old friend."
Skulker scoffed at his employer's jab as he shut down the communicator. He turned to give one final glance at the pandemonium, ignoring the throngs of prisoners that continued to make their way out as focused on a group being seized by a trio of guards.
He grabbed a firearm hanging from his waist, aiming at one of the guards. He fired, sending another net in his direction, immobilizing the sentry in the electric webbing, distracting the other two and giving the prisoners an opportunity to subdue them, breaking free.
Skulker tucked the gun back into its holster, giving the area another glance over before stepping outside to activate his propulsion system, hurtling off into the ether.
Another prisoner fell to the floor, struggling and failing to lift himself before Bullet's boot came down on his back. The gun fell from his hand.
He reached out, unprepared for the piercing stab behind his lower rib as something punctured his torso from behind. He howled as agonizing numbness spread from the wound, seizing him until he succumbed to paralysis.
The stinger withdrew. He heard the heavy footfall of combat boots pass him as he struggled on the floor, helpless to do more than watch as Bullet picked up the handgun, turning it over in his grasp.
"New toy?" Bullet remarked snidely, the barb of his tail retracting as it swung behind him.
Pained grunts sounded from outside the office, drawing Bullet's attention. He watched as another prisoner was flung through the doorway, powerless to stop Walker as he entered, pressing his massive boot down on the inmate's chest. Walker grabbed it by the collar, slamming the sides of his fist back and forth across its face three times before leaving it to crumble in a heap at his feet.
Walker stepped over it, the gaunt hollows of his face set into a stone-faced scowl as he approached Bullet.
"Years of labor. Years of effort," Walker growled, the quiet fury of his tone threatening to rattle the debris strewn across the office, or what was left of it, as he passed Bullet to his desk. "Years I've sunk into the only beacon of order in this godforsaken wasteland."
Without warning he brought his fists up and slammed them into the desk, crushing it into the ground with a roar that echoed through the prison halls.
"This does not happen!" he shouted, whirling around to face Bullet.
"If it's any consolation, sir, I doubt the majority of them will make it a mile past the perimeter before blasting themselves to pieces one way or another," Bullet commented coolly, inspecting the confiscated firearm.
"I'm not in the mood for your jokes, Bullet."
"I'm not joking, sir. Quite frankly, I don't think I've seen anything like this."
Bullet turned the gun over in his hand, pulling the magazine out; he then ran the slide back, clearing the chamber and letting the round fall to the floor. The ring light on the end of the barrel faded to black.
"I watched several guards go down at the other end of these, Walker. They didn't come back up. Infirmary's reporting mass seizures."
Walker clenched his fists.
"I wanna know how these things got here and who put them there."
"Judging by the size of the hole in the wall, I think I have a pretty good idea for the first," Bullet said, sneering as the hunter's visage came to him.
"I want names, Bullet," Walker snarled, closing the gap between them. "I want addresses. I want my cells full to the point of bursting yesterday with anyone and everyone involved in this."
Bullet rotated the magazine around until the back edge faced him. On it he saw the etchings of a serial number, and at the bottom an engraving of a logo: a capital A circumscribed with electron paths. He glanced up at Walker, a pallid portrait of seething rage inches from his own face.
"I believe I've found where we can start, sir."